


Perfecting Productivity

by Zodiac



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Bad BDSM Etiquette, But they're from Desert Bluffs being fucked up is a given for them, Cock Rings, F/M, Femdom, Kevin is fucked up, Lauren is too, Masochistic Kevin, Minor cock & ball torture, Oral Sex, Submissive Kevin, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-23
Updated: 2014-08-23
Packaged: 2018-02-14 08:58:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2185656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zodiac/pseuds/Zodiac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A certain vice president of StrexCorp has had it up to here with the particular remarks about her that a certain radio host keeps saying and takes it into her own hands to teach him just how much she disapproves of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perfecting Productivity

**Author's Note:**

> So I thought about Lauren getting back at Kevin for all the sassing he does towards her on the air and it inevitably turned into porn, enjoy!

“Kevin. Oh, Kevin.”

That sickly-sweet voice was the only sound within the radio station, all non-automatic broadcasts having just halted for the day. Night Vale, or rather, part of The Greater Desert Bluffs Metropolitan Community, was now listening to distorted wind with the occasional bloodcurdling moan, playing from one of the countless unmanned booths within the depths of the station.

Kevin had just switched the broadcast over to that (or maybe the outdated and quite possibly possessed equipment did it for him as soon as he signed off; it was hard to tell which) when he heard that far-too cheerful voice of the vice president of StrexCorp herself calling out to him from outside the booth. She had stormed off in the middle of the usual daily broadcast while muttering something about “Very important business that cannot wait any longer,” so to see that she was back already was confusing, to say the least. Regardless, Kevin was in absolutely no mood to see her back so soon in what was now _his_ radio booth, and it clearly showed in his biting tone when replying to her.

“Right here in the booth, as always, _Lauren_.”

The click of her high heels against the floor grew louder as she approached, echoing to become the one sound to banish the resounding silence within the station. And then the sound stopped, replaced by the sound of the doorknob to the booth turning and the door opening, Lauren letting herself in before shutting the door again behind her. She was dressed in clothes befitting such a high-ranking member of StrexCorp, a black pencil skirt and formal jacket standing out against her borderline unnaturally pale skin while her chin-length, red hair was offset by her bright yellow pantyhose and undershirt. Over her shoulder was a bulging yellow purse, the orange triangular logo of StrexCorp stamped on its side and a padlock keeping its contents from spilling out.

“Hello, Kevin.” She greeted, crossing her arms over her chest, ever-cheerful tone betraying none of her intentions as to the visit.

“ _Lauren_.” He replied, attempting to disguise his displeasure beneath the exact same tone she used, just as he used it to assure every one of his listeners that everything was perfectly fine, especially when it was anything but. Leaning back in the chair that had belonged to a certain _other_ radio host not too long ago, he turned his full focus to the vice president of Strex, though it was admittedly difficult to tell that he did so on account of his eyes being decidedly non-existent. “How… _nice_ of you to come back so soon. Did you finish up with the business you were talking about when you left?”

“Hmmm? Oh, no, but I _did_ gather together the tools that I needed to get it done with properly.” Humming gleefully, she dug around in one of the pockets of her jacket before withdrawing a small key from the confines.

“Oh?” An eyebrow arched up, clearly curious as to what this business could be, his lack of eyes now staring squarely at that key that Lauren had clutched between her bloodied fingers. “If that’s true, then why did you come back here?”

“Why, _Kevin_ ,” She raised her free hand up to her mouth, pressing her fingers against her lips to keep her gleeful giggles from escaping, “that is because my business is with you!”

“Really now?” He could only watch in confusion as she crossed the room to him to set her bag down on the broadcaster’s desk, a heavy, metallic ‘clunk’ ringing out as it plunked down against the surface and settled against the decorative gore. “And what _business_ do you have with me?”

“Simply the matter of _fixing_ your behavioral problems that have cropped up as of late.” She explained, unlocking the padlock on her purse, but choosing not to remove it from its place quite yet.

“’Behavioral problems’?” Kevin repeated incredulously, tone sounding akin to someone who had just been falsely accused of murder. And yet, he still made no physical move against her, knowing when to pick and choose his battles. Lauren Mallard was not one you willingly chose to fight if at all possible. “Lauren, I have been on my _best_ behavior, as is required at all times by StrexCorp! To hear you denouncing my hard, productive work for our lovely company, why I have never—!”

The resounding sound of flesh hitting flesh cut off the rest of his tirade, leaving him clutching at the cheek that Lauren had slapped.

“Rule number one: Do _not_ talk back to me or barely attempt to mask your sass beneath your StrexCorp-provided happiness like you normally do.” She merely smirked as Kevin just stared at her incredulously, still focused too much on his no-doubt stinging cheek to talk back yet. “Rule number two, _slut_ : You will refer to me as Mistress Mallard during this and any future sessions like this that we may have, do I make myself clear?”

“…’Slut’?” Was all that he managed to croak out, still stunned at the suddenness of it all. It wasn’t that he disapproved of being called a slut—oh no, he felt a distinct twitch in his pants when Lauren had said it in that most distasteful of tones—it was just the fact that none of her actions seemed to click together in his head. He was about to just up and ask who she was and what she did to the actual vice president of Strex before she spoke up again.

“Yes, _slut_. As you well-know, we at StrexCorp have all of our workers on file and, on each individual file, we have countless facts about the subject of said file that we have gathered through _completely_ legal means. Yours just so _happened_ to reveal that you are a masochist and enjoy being talked down to and degraded.” Then turning her attention to her bag, she removed the lock and set it off to a side before opening it. A few moments were spent with her digging around in it until she drew out a whip that split into nine different segments at the end, a cat o’ nine tails. Placing those painful ends just beneath Kevin’s chin, she lifted it, forcing his head to tilt up and look at her. “Is that information correct?”

Kevin shivered as he stared up at the imposing figurehead of StrexCorp. His stomach lurched, half in pleasure from the small amount of harsh treatment he had already received, half in fearful anticipation of what Lauren was planning on doing with the information she had plucked from his employee file. “Yes,” He breathed out, “it is.”

Her lips curled up as a sinister grin overtook her face. “Perfect.” She said, as sinisterly smug as an interrogator who had just wormed a valuable piece of information out of their victim, the hand holding the whip dropping back down to her side. “Because you know better than I do that the most fitting punishment StrexCorp can dole out is loving someone _too much_.”

“I know.” He did. He knew it all too-well, though he was positive that the love in the punishment he was going to receive would be centered entirely on the execution of it rather than towards him. “Will there be any other rules?” He was going to leave the question just as it was until he remembered the second rule, hurriedly tacking a, “Mistress Mallard” onto the end of his sentence once he did remember.

Lauren hummed softly to herself in thought, tapping her chin. Of course, she already knew what exactly Kevin’s punishment for disrespecting her would entail. She was merely drawing it out longer for him, letting him squirm and attempt to determine what she would do to him. Eventually, she began to rummage in her purse, taking out a small metal ring. “Are you aware of what this is?” She asked sweetly, lifting it up with her once-free hand.

Oh, he knew all-too well what that unyielding ring of polished metal was, and, judging by how his cock throbbed heavily at the sight of it, his body knew what it was as well. “A cock ring.” He answered, a nervous gulp trailing along after the statement.

“Good. So then, you can probably hazard a guess as to what your next order will be, I’m assuming?”

He swallowed down a snarky remark about how assuming things tended to warp people into forms resembling a particular part of the human anatomy, instead shaking his head in response. No sense in opening his mouth if the thing was just going to get him into trouble.

She sighed, sounding as exasperated as only someone who dealt with constant idiocy throughout their day could sound. “Clothes off, _Kevin_.” His name was spat out with vitriol and venom, making the sweetly-spoken “slut” seem more like a reward than a punishment. “And do hurry it up. I am _quite_ a busy woman, you know.”

Kevin found that any resistance he had within him mere minutes before when he was still hurling barely-masked hatred at Lauren had dissipated, or at least been stamped down for the time being. Now, that glossy ring and all the pleasures it could hold back restrained his thoughts as well as it could restrain any cock. He was already whipped into obedience by his own body’s desires and with not a single lash of that intimidating cat o’ nine tails having to be given out. And so he obeyed, standing up and stripping quickly, setting his clothes off to a side, uncaring as to whether any blood or viscera would get on them. When he was finished, he simply stood there in front of Lauren. His skin had occasional splatters of blood (not his, of course) as well as faded scars, bruises, and burn markings from the last time he had received re-education, sometime long ago in his fuzzy memory. Secretly, he hoped more would be added to the collection by the end of their session today.

The vice president was pleased at just how easily Kevin seemed to settle into his new role, even more so at how his cock was already beginning to swell from its limp state. Quickly, she knelt down, setting the whip aside for a moment to slip one ball, then the second through the ring. She smirked at the shaky gasp that her touches wrung out of the radio host, but remained on-task, bending his penis down to slide it through the ring as well. She made sure that the metal was flush against the base of his dick before she was content with her work, grabbing her whip and standing back up again. “Now that _that_ is out of the way, submissive little sluts should not be standing, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Y-yes, Mistress Mallard.” He stammered out, sinking down to his knees, legs tucked neatly beneath him. The only movement he made once he had settled into that position was an occasional wiggle, trying unsuccessfully to stop the cold constriction around his cock that felt like it was growing tighter around him by the second. The degradation, the humiliation of having to strip and present himself like this, the fact that he could only obtain that perfect peak of pleasure when Lauren wanted him to, it was all too much for him. His submissive, masochistic side that had not been sated in oh-so long cried, clamored, and slavered for more, more, _more_ of that harsh attention. He _craved_ more of this new punishment, so he remained almost entirely still while kneeling, anticipating whatever would come next.

Lauren ensured that he wouldn’t have to wait for long, unbuttoning her pencil skirt with her free hand and allowing it to fall to the floor. With that off, she curled a few fingers into her pantyhose and underwear that lay underneath it and pulled down, lowering them just enough to expose her vagina to the air. “I think you know what to do here, slut.” She crooned, letting the ends of the whip dangle and pool onto his shoulder. “But do be careful with those sharp teeth of yours. If someone were to get bitten, then I’m sure someone _else_ wouldn’t mind getting a few lashes in return. Eye for an eye to make all the world blind and all that.”

The radio host nodded, all-too aware of the leather tendrils resting on his skin, just waiting for their chance to bite into his flesh. Leaning in forward, he pressed his tongue against her vulva, widening his tongue to stimulate the entirety of the lips with meticulously slow licks. Using the short, held-back moans his actions wrung out of her as guidance, he shuffled closer, tongue diving between the fleshy folds to lap more fully at the sensitive nerves that lay hidden beneath them. Then, as his tongue brushed against her inner folds, he found himself yanked forward, a yelp escaping him as his nose was jammed into the flaps, the sound being muffled by all the soft flesh surrounding his mouth.

“C-come on,” Lauren murmured breathily, a healthy blush beginning to tint her cheeks as she pressed Kevin harder into her groin via the grip she had on his hair, “be as productive with this task as you claim to be with the rest of your work. You p-prove yourself and I may even give you a little r-reward for your efforts.”

Whimpering into the folds, Kevin doubled his efforts to please his mistress, utilizing everything but his teeth to fulfill her desires. He slid his tongue and nose up and down, carving a rhythmic, steady path in between the flaps, his saliva and her natural lubricant simultaneously making his job easier and messier. Swirling his tongue around, he made sure to use his nose as well, making it his guide when he trailed upwards and letting it leave a lingering path of pleasure every time he moved downwards. He had just begun to form a consistent pattern to his laps when a sudden harsh pressure against his dick made him unleash a muffled howl.

Lauren smirked at how something as simple as pressing the bottom of her high heel against this poor little slut’s cock was wrenching such exquisite noises from him. It was really a shame that she couldn’t hear them in their full glory, but it simply wouldn’t be a proper punishment if she simply allowed him to pull away without finishing his job. Besides, the vibrations they made through her were even sweeter than letting them go to waste on the air. Tightening her grip on his hair, she pressed him even harder against her while the bottom of her heel ground his cock into his stomach. “Come on, slut,” She growled down at the whining mess of a man beneath her, “I know you c-can do better than that. I was nice enough to reward you, so how about you—mmm—reward _me_?”

He obeyed, moving his head up to lap and suck where the folds of her pussy met, and the sensitive nub of her clitoris that was nestled away in that junction. Even as he worked on it, he quaked and whimpered. Every swipe of his tongue, every suckle or slurp brought that unforgiving heel grinding down harder against his poor cock. It ached with how hard it was, throbbing hotly against his stomach, smearing what pre-cum could leak out against his skin. It was crying, crying, crying for release, for the shoe to stop grinding it down like so many others were ground down beneath Strex’s might.

And yet, it was also crying out for more of the same brutal treatment.

It was throbbing so hard, becoming so engorged simply _because_ he was being treated so harshly. Being degraded, humiliated, tormented physically and mentally, it all made his blood boil in only the most sinfully pleasurable of ways. It was a beautifully twisted way of showing some sort of affection, he was sure of it.

And he just had to show Lauren how grateful he was for it.

So he continued working away, taking the sharp, high-pitched moans above him as a sign that meant he was doing very, very well. Every suck on her clitoris gave him deliciously sudden pain in the form of Lauren yanking on his hair and more pressure on his cock, causing him to make sounds of his own, well-worked voice vibrating through the flesh around his face. A single noise of contentment brought forth more pleasure, which in turn brought forth more noise. It was a vicious, wonderful, _perfect_ cycle which seemed to have no end in sight.

That is, until he noticed Lauren’s legs begin to tremble, the shoe pressed against his dick begin to shake.

“Ah-almost there, you sluuut…” She huffed out, panting roughly, nails digging into his scalp. “Just a biiit more and you’ll have done your job _very_ well…”

He moaned lecherously, lapping at her clit quickly, wanting so very badly to show his new mistress how well of a job he could really do. It didn’t take long for him to make Lauren orgasm under the suddenly much more desperate attention being paid to her. Kevin found himself held in place, the iron grip on his hair not abating in the slightest even as she cried out loudly, the muscles around him contracting and flexing in pulses. After several moments, he was released and he leaned back, huffing and looking up at her in anticipation of whatever was next.

Lauren smirked down at him, her muscles still tingling pleasantly with post-orgasmic waves of pleasure. Looking him over, she was pleased to see that his cock seemed painfully red at the tip, streaks of pre-cum mashed against his abdomen. It was straining against the cock ring, almost to the point of coming regardless of its presence, but not quite there.

Not yet, anyway.

“You have done such an excellent job.” She cooed out, voice back to its usual saccharine sweetness as she raised the hand that still held the cat o’ nine tails. “Now, let Mistress Mallard take care of that nasty little hard-on for you.” She then immediately lashed out the whip towards his chest, every single one of its ends striking their mark upon his skin.

The pain was _exquisite_ and he came despite the cock ring still on him as he howled out from the sheer physical agony. His cock pulsed and throbbed as it shot out ropes of his semen to splatter messily against his abdomen. He was a mess with blood beginning to ooze from nine fresh lashes against his skin, his own cum and Lauren’s fluids coating him. And yet, he could only flop down on his knees, too exhausted at the moment to even kneel properly, much less care about what he looked like.

While he still panted, trying to recover from his orgasm, Lauren put her clothes back on, making sure there wasn’t a single sign of what had occurred visible to anyone who may look at her. Next, she removed the cock ring from the broadcaster’s now-softened cock and balls and placed it back into her bag along with the whip. With her side of the clean-up done, she reached into her bag again, withdrawing a clean rag and throwing it down at Kevin. “Clean yourself up.” She sneered down at him, watching her juices dribble down his face and blood seep from his chest. “Make yourself as presentable as you are on the air. Oh, and do keep this in mind for the next time you decide to sass me on your show.”

As she left, Kevin pondered, and, coated in fluids both his own and not, decided that this was indeed an excellent thing to keep in mind the next time he plans on disrespecting his vice president.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this and wanted to screech at me in a manner similar to socializing, then you can find my Tumblr right [here](http://catsandcomposers.tumblr.com/).


End file.
